


Drive Fast (Come on Tell me Boy)

by nachttour



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, Body Horror, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Quadrant Vacillation, Sadstuck, Vomit, dub-con, intimate violence, mutually assured destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:56:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3595413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nachttour/pseuds/nachttour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It felt like someone was slowly choking him with fingers hooked into his hairline. The discomfort washed down the length of him, rushing between his bony-support structures and down to his toes . Reaching up to the nape of his neck and the epicenter of all of it, his claws skittered along metal. </p><p>Bile rushed into his throat and he coughed and spit to clear the acid filling his mouth. </p><p>There are three thousand other ways that he would die before he would consent to this. Slamming his face repeatedly onto the sharp corner of a countertop would be vastly preferable. </p><p>She was trying to turn him into a ship. Aside from the slavery and attendant indignity, did she even have a fucking clue how to fly? He didn't think so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive Fast (Come on Tell me Boy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BugTongue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BugTongue/gifts).



Vriska Serket lay draped over a box with a bloody face and her shoulder jammed at an angle guaranteed to be painful. She had come to rest above him with her organic arm dangling over his feet. Her clawtips hung pointed over his toes.

  
As for himself, he had come awake on a scuffed and gritty floor. Something wet was dripping down along his chin, and his neck was tender in a way he had never experienced before. Movement did not seem advisable so he scanned his surroundings from his prone location. One of the lenses of his glasses had a fissure crossing his vision. This served to make the headache throbbing between his eyes doubly intense.

  
This was not a hive – neither was it a cave nor his hivestem. The walls curved up much higher than usual, looming above in an unfamiliar and industrial fashion. Glittering surfaces contrasted against dull mass-produced containers. A scattering of shipping apparatus piled about confirmed that they were far away from home. The answer to how he had come to this place rested behind the slack mouth of Serket. Learning it would have to wait until she felt like ruminating him with tales of her personal cunning. While there were several scenarios imaginable, every one was unpleasant. He did not hold great hope that the sequence of events included the freeing of his lusus. There were two or three trolls in the building who were soft enough that they might let him free. If not, the life he lived was the best that Sollux could offer.

  
His neck was starting to radiate pain in waves that bordered nauseating.

  
It felt like someone was choking him using slow pressure with fingers hooked into his hairline. The discomfort washed down the length of him, rushing between his bony-support structures and down to his toes . Reaching up to the nape of his neck and the epicenter of his misery, his claws skittered along metal.

Bile rushed into his throat and he coughed and spit to clear the acid filling his mouth.

There are three thousand other ways that he would die before he would consent to this. Slamming his face repeatedly onto the sharp corner of a countertop would be preferable.

  
She was trying to turn him into a ship.

Aside from the slavery and attendant indignity, did she even have a fucking clue how to fly?

Not damn likely.

He did, having thought toward the future further than a sweep. If they had flagged him as a piloting candidate, being conscious and outside of a pillar was the better outcome. If things were idyllic, he would have been in programming and nowhere near the Fleet at all.

The helmsport in his neck was high-end at least. Rather than wrapping wide and anchoring into the side protrusions of his spinal discs, it was small and presumably made of the safer alloys. Four more and he would be ready to slot into most fleet-issue ships and start telemetry and takeoff procedures.

His shirt stuck to his back as he eased himself up, tacky with half-dried blood and other unknown substances. The room appeared sealed and the spider-girl was starting to stir. Kicking his heel into her palm with as much force as he could muster at the angle he was at, he watched her mouth contort.

“Captor what the fuck?!” Her speech is almost as slurred as his usually was. A cursory glance showed her down a front fang.

“Same thing to you Serket. WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Vriska set herself up faster, rolling her neck and flapping a hand around to find her glasses. Replacing the pair on her face the growl she aimed at him was not a satisfactory answer. He could trust her to deliver though. Turning on the box she stared down at him with legs folded and arms crossed over her sign.

“I thought you were powerful Captor! I’ve seen that before. You were good enough to take buildings down and solve my Megido problem. Did you like, I dunno get hit in the head since then?!”

Things fell neatly into place and Sollux felt nothing. Instead of answering immediately, he took stock of the room. Nothing close at hand would serve as a useful weapon.

They sat at an impasse but there was a chain of events waiting to begin in the next few moments that once started would not stop. She could roll him and move him around like a stringed play-instrument. She had done it before and she would do it again. His psionics were likely her end-goal, as he would not serve other purposes in space. She was the one that had the hemocaste advantage out of the pair of them. If he tried to escape without her he would not get far.

Settled around the smaller set of his horns near-flush to the keratin sat his kill-switch. For his own safety and that of the few remaining friends of his that were alive he had done some self-modification. A couple of after-market limiters reduced his powers outside of high-grade piloting range. Instead of an engine ready to soar through the stars he currently was comparable to an outboard propulsion device. The limiters were password locked with an encryption scramble. Another user needed to access the password at a site designed for such things.

Karkat was the current one with the correct code and they were far away from the range of contact for his devices. The limiters were hackable but the whole point in having them was to make it harder for those he considered threatening to use him. The next Vriska in his life might have been a thought-reader instead of an action-controller. Not having the information put another layer of safety between his mind and his cohort. The longer he could hide their presence from her the better it looked for his long-term freedom.

“Maybe. Maybe I did. What did you think was going to happen Serket?”

For reasons unknown to him, Aradia used to talk with her. If he had to question it, their communication centered around a protective streak for Nitram. If things had gone different AA would have registered red with him and flipped pale for Tavros. Things would have been fine. Instead Vriska happened. Like food poisoning or a hurricane or a combination thereof. The end result of that was injury and death.

The smell of AA’s cooked skin lingered in the back of his throat long past when it should have dissipated. The chain of events that he had imagined was different than the reality presented before him. Unlike that time, this time there was something that he could do. He could take control of a little part of this interaction. She had locked them into some stupid situation and now they were alone. As much as she was likely to hurt him, he could hurt her right back. It took just a nudge to move veins in another troll’s pan. Nudge the right place and at best they spoke in slow, choppy sentences. What he owed her was the worst.

While he was thinking she was talking. Perhaps tuning in would be the correct course of action.

“-aren't even listening to me are you, you stupid cull-invitation.”

“No. Not really.”

Flashing her a smirk he turned to face her.

“Where are we?”

“Well. I am not entirely certain. But I can find out if you give me a second.”

Pulling her palmhusk out she started poking around the screen, the small taps adding to the sound of the air filters hissing above them. It was a pointless action. All of the service satellites would be orbiting Alternia. At best she would have no reception and at worst she would allow some of the more zealous mid-blooded staff know that there were stowaways. Focusing his attention on the moving parts and structure he understood to be under the case he tried to overclock them. Giving a temperature warning, the husk turned itself off. Fancy tech, that. Most of the husks he had interacted with would explode, to his glee and the great irritation of the device's owner.

“Let me refine the question and speak in smaller concepts. What place are we right now?”

“You really would be better slack-faced and hanging vertical. If you explode my husk I'm going to take your eyes for it.”  
Flexing her fingers and staring him down with malicious intensity she logged it and answered him.

“We're on a transport ship. Because I am excellent and full of all of the luck it was one where the boarding crew didn't say anything. They just kind of ignored us. I think they assumed that you were fleeing or some shit and that I was your nice, amazing highblooded savior. It would be romantic if it wasn't absurd.”

“To. Where?”

“That part I'm not sure about. If you had been listening to me then you would know that I had you in the tech bay and they were going to try and take you away. So I had to just grab you, run, and get on another ship. You're lucky that you didn't come out pan-damaged. The doctorturers and helmstech said before going in that you shouldn't be moved for like, a few days. They had a hover-gurney so I threw you on it and found this place. I kind of had to fight some guards so they wouldn't repossess you and kill me, but here we are!”

Her injuries in that context made a bit more sense. The area around her cheek and neck was puffy and discolored, mottling into bruise. She would swell up even worse the longer it sat like that and then likely be fine. Damn highblooded healing rates.

“What did you do to keep from getting murdered?” Even with her luck and the ability to control trolls, it seemed to be a stretch.

“You think so little of me. You wound me right between the struts Captor. I fooled two guards into thinking that they had me in custody and that this was a prison cell. It's easier when you're not taking complete control. They were going to do a similar thing anyway so they just put me in a hangar instead of an actual cell. Then away they went. Gave me time to lock the door. They came back and banged around for a while but I passed out. Dunno what's gonna happen now. We just have to get out of here and then we'll be on our way.” That sounded unfortunately Serketian in terms of undeserved luck and cunning. He hated her in the most platonic sense, but he could agree that she thought well on her feet.

“Did we go through a jump gate?”

Vriska picked at the knee of her jeans where the fabric had torn, pulling at one of the loose threads and winding it around her foreclaws.

“Would that be a yes, Serket?”

“I didn't know that they were going to do that okay?! Not every plan can go just the way one would expect. There is a certain element of danger and excitement in flying through the moment!”

She looked young and afraid and stupid with dried blood on her face. None of this served to make her endearing to him. If he could and it would not get him executed as well, he would beat her head against the boxes stacked around them. He would take his fingers and hook them into her chest cavity and pull until her ribs broke.

It was a good fantasy anyway. Instead he would have to play this with care. For the moment they would have to come up with some sort of plan. The transport vessels went all over the empire. The pair of them could be en route to a colony, a soldier-hub, or a trade outpost; the options were as numerous as they were frightening.

“Everyone knows that you were meant for the inteligenicide community. I was aiming for areospace with a functioning pan. Why blow all of that by going up six perigees early?”

“There were reasons.”

Of course there were, more than likely the angry clademates of some troll that was no longer even a passing thought on her mind.

“So now we are stuck in space. We have no credentials, I have an incomplete port-job and the only thing we have going for us is that the dock crew might either be soft enough to get murdered or are Sufferists.”

It would make him feel better to be standing again but his body did not want to cooperate. Sitting up had exhausted the small burst of energy that awakening afforded.

“It's not as bad as you're making it to be.”

Sneaky foot coverings making contact with the deck, Vriska approached him. Her shadow looming long and covered him.

“I have all of the luck and you and I both know it. We'll finish the port job on your back and then I'll take the ship and we can do whatever we want!”

“To use those ports you have to have a rating above p-five. I'm about a two.” Curving his mouth into an ugly smile he waited for her answer to that.

“See that's what confuses me.”

Walking around him she sized him up like goods at one of the open-air marketplaces. It was not something that highbloods had to worry about, not having enough food or receiving rotten goods. Sometimes though, trading and further commerce needed to occur and some of the canny trolls on homeworld understood. When one shopkeeper ascended, another would take it over.

Reaching out she brushed a clawtip along the higher of his horn-sets, humming audibly. Swatting at her he felt her skin give a little and growled for good measure.

“When I used you before you were higher than that. I've kept stats on everyone that we knew. I knew what they were good for and what they could do. You could do this for me. It just seems that magically you can't. I want you to tell me why.”

“I want the caegar paid to some of the violet admirals in my accounts and a new gaming rig.”

If he showed fear she would see it. If she could see it she would exploit it. It was a pleasure not to feel it when around her. She had already done the worst to him. This was solely a matter of keeping her from doing the rest.

“Did I break your pan when I played with you earlier? You're supposed to be sturdier than that.”

“Keep talking, Serket.” His fangs tended to get in the way of a threatening growl. However he could hiss with the best of them. She took a half step back, jamming her hands into her pockets.

“You need to tell me what happened or we're going to die. Either that or I use you as a meat-shield and then make a break for it.”

Of course she would. Why it surprised him, Sollux was not sure.

“You realize you will still need a pilot right? They put in the most crucial interface port for me. To get any of the higher ship functionality you need a bio-connection with your navigation and operating system. If you try to fly those ships solo, against adults you are the one that is going to die. Stupidly, while in space.”

He could see her weighing the pros and cons of the proposed scenario. Stepping in close again, she poked his forehead. “And you took piloting training? I find myself incredulous at the concept. I figured you were too busy with code and bees.”

“Yes, you insufferable grubfondler. I took pilot training because there was a ludicrously high probability that I would end up as a pilot. It's shocking, I know. Having some base level of fucking competence might have saved me from the highly unwanted inclusion of spinal adaptations to my person. I also wanted to avoid the side-dose of eventual limb atrophy during the course of my military service.”

  
Getting to his feet he felt better about the situation. His psionics were more than enough to keep him upright and not listing back and forth. Standing also gave him a head's worth of height on her.

  
“We need to get the fuck out of here before the guards decide that we are worth paying attention to and figure out a way to get back home. If you can get me to one of the little ferrying ships I think we can do it. They have supplies and crap that will last us through the trip back assuming we haven't jumped. If we have we're going to die stupidly in space anyway.”

  
Rocking back on her heels and looking over smug, Serket pulled a training pamphlet up on her tablet. “I downloaded this on the way in. Their wifi is poorly secured.” There was a map of the ship with a glowing blue circle highlighting where they were and then a blinking route to a larger space a few levels down. Following the path it seemed easy enough. The hard part would be getting past the crew.

 

“You realize that we don't have uniforms right?”

  
She laughed.

  
*

Sneaking through the hallways was easier than either of them expected. The crew seemed engaged in either flight or other activities and were not present in the hallways. Only two of them had to get redirected elsewhere. The hangar sat sealed with a standard airlock. It ought to be easy to get out of, but easy things often turned hard in his experience. He hoped that it did not need remote activation codes to function.

  
Vriska had slipped away, moving through the docked ships and scouting out the one that she wanted. When she came back a feeling came over him that was hard to put a claw on. It felt quite like what he had felt back home in the early mornings when the sun cut down hot and sharp onto the ground, scorching everything. If he moved from the spot he stood in the moment that he stood in it, everything was going to go wrong.

  
“I found a good one.”

  
“Okay. How much of a pain in the ass is it going to be to steal?”

“Not much. We can just blow the hangar on exit. They left one of the defense drones.”

“Uh.”

“I know, right?!”

“There isn't a lot of food on those, Serket.”

“Well go get some!”

“There isn't a lot of room to put said foodstuffs. They don't have replicators or much else. It's just a place to sit, a place to bleed if you are bleeding, and a place to empty your bladders. They're designed with the assumption that either you get killed or you come back and eat on the ship.”

“Captor I don't have time for this. I've got to go up and get the hangar codes. They're changing shifts soon. Figure it out.”

That said his kidnapper slipped away, moving through the hangar with more stealth than he ever would have attributed to her.

Fine, if she wanted him to figure it out he would. First order of business was to look like he had any reason to be here in the first place. Civilian clothes were an excellent way to stand out. Slipping into one of the smaller exploration ships he found a wardrobifier. It took longer than he wanted to get scanned for the correct measurements. He could hear the silk-grubs inside of the machine working as their cocoons were disassembled. Putting his pants and regular clothes in his modus he stepped out of the chamber looking like flight crew – bodysuit, neck bracing with interface built in for biowire and the option to clip on survival mechanisms if he were fast enough to do so. Low air condition gear, med kit, advanced med kit and rations followed his clothes into the modus.

A significant amount of his personal effects got dumped in exchange for food and other survival equipment. When faced with starving in space alone with Vriska Serket, game grubs and some unfinished coding projects did not hold the same allure as they once might have. Briefly it occurred to him to wonder if she had done similar gathering and then he knew that he did not care. If her own stupidity got her killed, then the more faster he could get back.

Making his way back to the drone that she had chosen he did his best to understand what she wanted him to fly. There were weapons systems, but they would only be effective against middling ships. They were useful in getting debris out of the way and fucking up other small craft. What they should be taking was one of the other ships. Serket was returning at a sprint. Heading inside of the ship he settled into the pilot's chair. Biowire slithered along his back, seeking entry. When it found the port at the top of his neck it slid in and home. A strange taste filled the back of his mouth. It was sort of like when he tasted some of his slurry. It was there, he was bored and he wanted to know what it tasted like. The answer was slightly salty, a little oily and like electricity.

HUD windows flashed around his eyes, showing preflight statistics. The door closed and Vriska laughed – an ugly and grating sound – somewhere behind him.

“Guess you were fussing over nothing at all Captor. Look at you sitting pretty in the pilot's chair. It's almost like it was -made- for you. Could even say it's in your blood. This would have worked a lot better if I could just put you in the engine compartment.”

“Shut up and belt in. Did you get the launch codes?”

“Yeah. Of course I did. It wasn't even hard.”

“Put them in now. We've got to go.”

Trolls on the floor were starting to notice that something was amiss. A group advanced on them and there was movement in the office behind the insulated viewing planes. The minute that the warmup threshold passed he pushed the the ship forward, getting it onto the red-lit runway. The doors were still firmly closed.

Growling at Vriska for a little help he advanced on the airlock, hoping that the idiots inside were smart enough to clear out. Some of them were not, standing by and staring at the unexpected movement. It was their fault for being that dumb. Serket was too busy to talk to him, entering credentials and other codes. Lights flashed and things were getting loud over the com.

“Drone 357 you are not cleared to exit. Cease immediately.”

Sollux turned off the audio on his station. They would keep telling him not to do things and he would keep trying to do it. Notification about hostile activity flared along his panels.

“Vriska. Get the doors.”

“Hang on Captor.”

Red and other warning shades started to light up and the back of their craft rocked as anchoring cable hit the back end of the ship. They were going to shoot out the propulsion element and then they were going to die. Using the exterior cameras to pinpoint where the cable anchored he pushed it out, grunting with the strain. The limiters made it like trying to breathe when being slowly compressed by heavy stones. Pain blossomed along his forehead and arced back behind his aurals.

“Get. The. Doors.”

“GOT THEM. GO.”

The drone rocked as one of the other soldiers shot at it. Nothing fell into critical levels so they took off, falling back into their seats as the thing accelerated.

 

*

  
There were pins sticking into his skull. Starting at the tips of his horns and looping down into the second set and down into his jaw. Jerking awake he found Vriska on top of him, intently touching his head. Punching out as hard as he could he caught her in the stomach and hissed. Plasma and other clear fluid dripped down his hair and into his eyes. She'd been shredding his horns.

  
Gingerly reaching up, surrounded with what static he could summon around the pounding headache he still had from their escape, he surveyed the damage. The longer set was left mostly alone. The littler and more sensitive ones were shredded. The limiters still sat in place, designed to stay put until unlocked, even after the death of the subject.

  
“What in the burning, tortured fuck did you think that you were trying to do?”

  
Vriska sat up, watching him through her bangs with her sole good eye. “You've been telling me lies Captor.”

  
“I don't know what the fuck you are talking about and if you touch me again I'm going to gut you.”

  
“I find that amusing.” Getting up and inching closer, she stared at him. “There's something on your horns. What is it?”

“Limiters.”

“Why did you put limiters on yourself Sooo~llux?”

The extension of his name made his back fangs hurt. “I don't know, Vriska. You're a smart girl. Why don't you think that one through carefully and tell me what you think? I could tell you a story but I don't know that it would be as interesting as anything that you could contrive.”

“Well see I have, and it's boring. And not only that, but I genuinely don't know! You're sort of out of friends so I see no reason for you to want to reign yourself in. Now it's time to take those off and be useful!”

“Unfortunately for you I can't do that. They're remote coded. I don't have the password.”

“You're lying.”

“You wish that I was. But it's true.” Seeing her face fall made him feel poisonous delight. Thwarting her would have to be his pastime for the duration of their journey.

“Well... if they won't come off I'll have to take them off.” Delogging a sword out of her modus Serket took another step closer.

“You realize my horns are like antennae don't you? They help me fly. If you break the little ones you're not going to get the result that you want.”

  
The sword came around to point at his face. He could turn it on her and up into her thorax faster than she could hurt him. If he did that he would have no way to get through checkpoints. He would be considered a rogue helmsman and would be murdered. Double-fuck to all of this and everything that Vriska Serket ever did.

“I don't know if I believe you, Sollux.”

  
The headache hitting him was starting to make it hard to see. His ability to care about his situation was decreasing in degrees relative to the intensity of the throbbing.

  
“Believe me or no it doesn't matter. I need you and you need me. Put the stupid sword away and relax. We've got a while on this trajectory before anything happens. Also, did you see if there was a replicator here?”

She swiveled her head around the tight conditions of their craft. There was the fore, with two seats, both biowire equipped and the displays. There was a gaper. One rack was kind of awkwardly stuck against a wall and dangling into space. Above the rack was a med kit that had been opened before and a half-full box of sopor strips. No food of any sort appeared to be present. Vriska's face told him everything that he needed to know.

“I grabbed food, nookwhiff. Behave and stop trying to saw parts off of me and you eat. If you don't I don't get it out of my modus for you. If you think you can decrypt it yourself I would like to watch you try. It requires thought so you can't roll me into doing it.”

The flush of anger across her face should have been warning enough but sometimes he was stupid. When she sucker-punched him there was nothing he could do.

*

“HOW THE FUCK DO I TAKE CARE OF YOU. I DON’T WANT TO DIE IN SPACE ALONE WITH YOU.”

The last thing that he wanted to wake that.

“You shouldn’t have killed Aradia. She could have told you.”

The words came out mumbled and slow. For the moment his mouth was not working the way he liked, given the lisp he worked around usually. He had been sleeping for longer than he thought he should. There was crust along his eyelids and stuck in his hair from where she hurt his horns. Adding to the list of crusty substances blood had dried along his lips and mouth. Presumably it had originated from his nose. If she punched him with the metal arm all bets were off.

“Okay look you stupid gutterblooded douche. You are overly hot. Your face won't stop bleeding and when you try and stay awake you keep passing out again. When you do it fluxes the power.”

“That sounds a lot like a concussion. Did you perhaps hit me in the head hard?”

He could not properly glare because it required turning his head.

“Not that hard. I would have been up like five minutes after taking that hit.”

“I hope you die.” Laying back down against the cool of the deck felt nice. Vriska growled in frustration above him.

“Don't go back to sleep and don't die! C'mon. Maybe you should lay down on the bunk or something. Lowbloods are supposed to bounce.”

“If you touch me I will move the veins in your head and you will be reduced to a stuttering mass of organic waste. It's not too far off of where you are now. Stay away.”

Serket looked both puzzled and put out. “I'm trying to be nice Captor.”

“I don't want you to be nice to me. I want you to fuck off and let me lay on the floor. I will get up when I'm ready.”

“If you do that the controls are going to keep going grubfuck if you pass out again. What do we do if we get off course?”

“I'm sure you'll think of something. After all, you were going to be the navigator for this mission alone, weren't you? Maybe you should start your piloting feeds. They're pre-loaded on most schoolfeeding training cascades.”

Really, he should have expected the kick to the ribs that came next. She should have expected him to puke profusely over her shoes – the whole reason that he did

not want to move in the first place. Maybe the both of them would get better at planning for consequences. Maybe they would starve to death in the drone. Sollux was sure that it was about a fify-fifty probability in either direction. The acid-organic smell of vomit filled the small space and the pleasure of seeing disgust and fury on Serket's face did not do much to help him feel better.

*

In retrospect she might have been right regarding being unconscious and the controls. After the fight about his horns they drifted enough to add a week to their travel time. Due to Serket's paranormally large amount of luck this turned out to be non-disastrous where it could have ended in their being stranded in open space. When the transport crew fired it damaged a propulsion grid. Decreased power demand in turn led to decreased fuel load, allowing for a longer and slower journey. The little ships were not equipped with their own helmsmen – it would be a waste of resources.

Even though helming was never something that he had aspired to, Sollux was putting significant effort into hacking his limiters. For both his own safety and the safety of his body, having a bargaining chip against Serket was essential. His efforts to the present had proved fruitless, much to his chagrin. They possessed a glut of time so he theoretically could work as long as he liked at it.

Sleep-cycles were different than the rest of the time they spent together. He had never been the best at resting to start with. Combinations of binge-coding and paranoia had set him up to enjoy fits of insomnia. If they had been on Alternia he never would have slept with a strange troll in his space. Necessity did strange things to his boundaries.

They were learning things about one-another living like this.

Serket cried in her sleep—long, hitching mumbles interspersed with snorts from her clogged nose. Most of the time she took the bunk, he did not feel inclined to fight her over it. She was also often inclined to stick her hand down her pants. Sometimes it just stayed there. Other times he heard the liquid brush of her bulge against her fingertips and soft sighs while she dreamed.

He learned from her that he ground his teeth and whined in his sleep. He tended to singe things around him if they got too close – namely hair and fingertips. Comeuppance for that arrived in a superheated metal fingertip pressed into his neck. It was highly tempting to pop the resulting blister while hovering over her sleeping face to let it drain into her open mouth. The risk of retaliation was too high, so that remained but a fond dream.

Having to be close to her all the time drove him to distraction. Their living space smelled like her, the air had snatches of her and all of his clothes had her stupid hair clinging to them. For a troll who was solitary ninety percent of the time, this was near intolerable. Both of them could escape into dreaming but it never lasted.

They had come to a system – she would sit at the front while he napped. When he woke she would head back. It was during one such exchange that he noticed. It took a tiny bit of maneuvering to pass through the smaller space toward the bunk with two trolls and everyone's horns. Instead of leaning back, she leaned in, brushing her shoulder along his.

After that, their interaction was an experiment. Laying still after he woke up from naps he could hear her standing close and breathing, watching him sleep. She would glance furtively up after he came out of the gaper from doing wet towel-absolution to avoid reeking.

If she was not a murderous psychopath he might have given her a chance. Aradia had been twice the troll she was and had made him happy. Vriska at her best passively irritated him and at worst made him feel murderous. His only attempt at self-pailing to the thought of her ended in his bulge retreating. Still, there was power in attraction. Movies, books and the military instruction manual all made note of it. The next time she brushed along his shoulder he stopped and pressed his back, staring along the line of his body to meet her eye.

“Sup?”

  
“Nothing.” Unbothered, she stared back at him. “I'm just bored. There's no room in this thing. I'm used to moving and doing. Not sitting on my ass.”

  
“I'm fine with it.”

“You would be.” Growling a little bit, she poked his hip with a claw. “Look, I know I'm too classy for you and it's kind of an unbelievable treat that I might offer, but you wanna... I dunno, fool around?”

She probably had only ever pailed herself. With her temperament and her behemoth monster lusus there was no space for quadrants. She was propositioning in the vaguest sense. What a joke. Instead he slipped his hand into hers, hooking her claws above her knuckles and squeezing enough to pinch.

“You asking black or red?”

He was not exactly an erotic feed performer himself, but he and AA had done a lot more than miss Serket ever likely had. The rush of cerulean to her horntips confirmed his suspicion. Drawing her desires out of her was turning into a sadistic pleasure. When she found her words they faltered. “Black. I have no desire to put my mouth anywhere near your mouth.”

“Too bad.”

Darting forward he pressed his mouth to hers. Sinking his fangs into her lip he reveled in the disgruntled squeak of displeasure from her direction. Shoving her against the wall he jammed a knee between her legs, brushing along the protrusion of her bone bulge. Leaning against her aural he hissed at her, taunting.

“Don't cheat. No psi. If you do it only proves how weak you are. Against a boy half of your weight and strength, and with limiters on. If you've got to roll me like this you should just space yourself and save the slurry.”

Instead of feeling his limbs go slack, she kissed back. Messy and aggressive and throat vibrating with growls. Winding her metal hand into the fabric of his flightsuit she tore at it. The material gave along the seam – the pressure of cloth pulling along his skin aching until it finally snapped. Smirking at him, she stepped into his space, eye wild and fixed on his face.

“I don't have to cheat, Captor. You're fucking pathetic.”

So she thought. Hooking his ankle through hers he tipped her back toward the bunk, feeling her shoulders hit it with a thump. Her pointed horn scraped along the wall with a screech. The contortion of her face at the sensation was a small pleasure. Being that she had shredded his clothes it seemed fair to just step free of them.

When she chuckled he would not bring himself to be mad about it. A cutting figure of terror and strength he was not.

“So what're you going to do with me now? You stripped me but you're on your back.”

A conundrum that she had presumably not considered. Reaching down to undo her pants she wiggled out of them, dropping them to the floor near his feet. Underneath her undergarments her bulge lay curled up, straining against them and leaving a small blue smear at the tip.

“Spread your legs.”

It might have been the first experience that she had ever had with seeing another troll in the nude. Then again, given how respectful she was about the wishes of others maybe it was not. Either way his bulge did not draw distinctions. Given the right circumstances he was an exhibitionist of a high calibre. Some of the wettest orgasms that he had ever had were from touching himself splayed wide in his computer chair, showing AA every little movement while the webcam on his husktop bored in between his legs.

Drawing his clawtip around the tip as it emerged, he went on to brush his fingers down each side of it as it unsheathed. The soft and slippery sounds of his own body helped the mood some. Serket was not enough of a threat to his own life to inspire any fire in his loins.

“And now that we have determined that we both have functioning reproductive organs are we getting this show on the road?”

“Come up here with me.”

“You gonna make me?” It wouldn't be black if he were not contrary.

“I can and you know I will.”

“Loser.”

“Gross skeleton nerd.”

Settling himself across her hips, leaning over her and staring down into her face the absurdity of it hit him. This was not a black tryst any more than Vriska was a candidate to be an actual quadrant. He had been keeping track of her piloting feed progress. At the rate she was learning she would outpace his decoding of the limiters. Then it would be wires, excellent posture, and oblivion.

Hooking his claw into her underwear he shredded them, echoing her earlier affront to his wardrobe.

“Now I get to imagine your bulge pressed up against the seam of your jeans when you're sleeping spiderbitch.”

Snatching his hips she pressed herself up into him while dragging him down.

The tip of her bulge pressed along the folds of his nook, inquisitive and seeking somewhere to hide. The stimulation felt good. Trapping his own bulge against his abdomen so that it could not tangle up with hers, he watched the length of her disappear into him. He felt determined not to reward her shitty behavior with good sounds. Swallowing a chirp he focused on the soft sounds she was letting slip. Smoothing a hand up and under her shirt he cupped one of her spheres.

They were a little softer than Aradia's had been, and a touch more full. Drawing his clawtips along the bottom of it he heard her whimper. Tweaking her nipple violently with his thumb-claw he smirked at her, pressing his hips down flush and sheathing her to the base inside of him. Her bulge had soft ridges to it and was thinner than his, but it felt good to be settled down on it. The tip was questing for his seed flap, whipping back and forth in random motions. Aradia had been able to control those movements. Most trolls could, including himself. He would not be sharing that skill with miss Serket.

It felt like having a cylindrical frozen treat stuffed in along the warmth of his body. There had been a light season when it was so hot that the only option was to turn all of the servers off and lay on the floor. The bees sat still in their combs and the air lay thick in his partition of the hivestem. In the absence of anything else to do he had turned to touching himself, pulling and stroking his bulge in long and aggressive movements. The thought had been that he would get even hotter than he was already and then take a cool shower.

Instead of finding release, all he ended up with was a pail-indent in either side of his thighs where he had clamped them around it and a sopping nook. There were ice-treats in the cool part of the thermal hull. The answer was clear about what needed to happen next.

Remembering that helped him get a little wetter. Angling his hips forward to give her a better angle he drew electrified fingers along her mouth. “I like it when you're quiet. I can forget that you are here and that we are in space.”

Serket bit down and he laughed, letting blood well up around the wound and drip down along her mouth.

“That's all that you get to have inside of you.”

Getting a handful of his butt she squeezed her hand tight. The angle felt exquisite and a moan escaped despite his best attempts otherwise. “This is supposed to be a contest, Captor. Why aren't you inside of me? Afraid you can't give as good as you're getting?”

Staring down into her face he let the false joviality drop. “You are the one in control, Serket. You can take whatever you want and I can't stop that. But I'm not giving you anything.”

She came inside of him and slurry dripped down his thighs to pool out and over her hips. Grabbing the remnants of his flight suit he wiped his bulge and legs off and stepped into the gaper to finish getting cleaned up.

*

Laying on his side between the wall he smoothed his hand over her face. Pressing the butt of his palm against the dip of her jaw, he tapped his forefingers along her temples. A month had passed from the first time that they had pailed. There had been complications. Nuzzling his nose under her bangs he whispered quiet nonsense. Tension still sang through every one of her muscles and her robotic hand had bent the bunk where it was clenched on the edge.

“You need to calm down.”

“Fuck you Captor!” The hissed reply was muffled due to being hidden in his shirt.

“You could do that too if you wanted.”

Papping along her ribs and sneaking a hand under the fabric of her jacket he pulled her into the curve of his body and folded in close. “Why are you trying to kill us?”

“Because this is dumb! I don't want to die slow with you! I am going out in a good way, not like this. I'm bigger than this.”

“We got put off course and they did jump. We just need to wait a while longer and then small traffic gets cleared to jump. One more day and then we get to homeworld.”

“You keep saying that to me and I don't believe a fucking thing that you say because you're a stupid, destructive liar.”

“Says you.”

“I hate you so bad.” Her voice was an angry, half-sedate buzz.

“It is mutual.” His was flat.

Silence lay long and quiet, with just the ship's running systems to punctuate it.

“Captor?”

“What?”

“Will you ever trust me again?”

The laughter that overtook him would not stop. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was a hard one for me. Vriska is a compelling character within the context of MSPA but not one that I particularly like or enjoy. I did my best and I hope that you love it :D


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